


The Side Effects of Being Owned

by v_m



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Dom/sub, M/M, Masturbation, Power Play
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-08
Updated: 2018-10-15
Packaged: 2019-07-28 03:38:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16233434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/v_m/pseuds/v_m
Summary: Carl tries to cope with the gruesome events caused by Negan and his saviors. Shortly after, the boy's mind is being infiltrated by submissive thoughts.





	1. Just the Beginning

**Author's Note:**

  * For [carlrhymes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/carlrhymes/gifts).



Carl was kneeling in front of Negan and it felt right. His will was broken and his body on the verge of collapsing. Carl was about to lose consciousness. His dry, almost chapped lips kept whispering the same words over and over again.

“Negan, no… **please** don’t. I’m scared, Negan. **Don’t**. Negan…”

A sharp and somehow comforting voice answered: “Don’t you worry, my good boy. It’s **just the beginning**. Hell, you’re gonna **love** this shit when I’m fucking done with you. Now **open up**.”

Carl felt a firm grip on his right shoulder and the world suddenly began to cave in. The hand belonged to his father.

"Hey, Carl. That dream again, huh?" he said in a concerned, yet sleepy voice.

“Uh… Yes, dad. Sorry for disturbing your sleep.” Carl replied.

Rick gave his son a quick pat on his head and went back to bed.

It has been the sixth night in a row that Carl dreamed of kneeling in front of Negan. Somehow, the scenario would always find a way to enter his thoughts. However, this wasn’t the only thing that Carl was worried about. It was also the sensations he experienced while dreaming. It just felt so real and, in some way, right. It was as if he belonged there. As if kneeling in front of a superior man was his purpose in life. As if it was the most natural thing he has ever done in his whole life.

Once Carl’s eye adjusted to the darkness around him he noticed a visible bulge pushing through his bedsheets. Then he closed his eyelid and ordered his imagination to try and recreate the dream. Instinctively he got a firm grip around his hard cock. God, it felt so good. He let out a barely audible moan. Once again, Carl noticed how vivid the dream has really been. He could still smell it. Taste it. Suddenly, a well-known feeling of submissiveness washed over him, and he couldn’t restrain himself from giving his now throbbing dick a few gentle strokes. Most of the time, Carl was able to suppress his submissive side as he always wanted to be like his father – strong, determined and dependable. Therefore, he could never allow himself to be perceived as vulnerable or weak.

But something about his recent gruesome encounter with the man in the black leather jacket had changed Carl. Was it the fact that his group was all under Negan’s thumb now? Was it the way Negan dealt with the boy’s father? Or was it simply the way Negan touched him? He didn’t know for sure. The only thing the boy knew was that he wanted to stay beneath Negan. Carl’s rationality had been corrupted by the thought that Negan truly was superior to them and that bowing down to him was the only right thing to do.

Although Carl still tried to fight his hidden desires, Negan would always find a way to enter his thoughts and infiltrate his mental resistance. No matter how hard Carl tried to keep those urges under wraps, he knew that Negan would always come out on top. And he did. Negan’s image penetrated the boy’s dwindling willpower with unstoppable force and Carl absolutely loved it.

Carl masturbated twice before finally falling asleep. The last thing he remembered was him whispering Negan’s name.


	2. A Long Day Ahead of Us

The next morning turned out to be colder than expected. The sun was hidden behind thick clouds and the heavy sky had been painted in a color that resembled graphite and iron. Carl had a terrible headache. That has been the first thing the boy sensed upon being woken up by a bone-chilling breeze of wind.

He then remembered the horrible events that took place a week ago. In a split-second Carl involuntarily relived every single emotion he tried so much to suppress. Negan’s torturous countdown; The courageous look in Abrahams eyes; The cracking sound of Glen’s skull and his incomprehensible mumbling. He remembered the blood splashing on his face and the muffled cries of his comrades. He remembered the blank expression on his father’s face. It probably haunted him the most. Carl had never thought he would experience Rick in such a condition.

The boy felt a strong tension near his stomach and swallowed hard. He forcefully shut his eye and did everything in his power to hold back the tears. For a brief moment of time, the boy managed to make himself believe that those terrifying events didn’t really happen and that it had only been an incredibly vivid nightmare.

“Carl, you’re awake.” The boy recognized his father’s face at the entrance to his room. Rick looked like he was in a hurry.

As soon as they made eye contact every delusional idea Carl had regarding the incident that took place seven days ago vanished.

“Come on, get up. We have a long day ahead of us.“ Rick said impatiently and left Carl’s room.

The boy forced himself to look at the tilted window as a feeble attempt to distract himself from his thoughts but all he has gotten was goosebumps all over his body. Carl blamed it on the cold. A single tear rolled down the boy’s left cheek before he finally managed to get out of bed.

Carl dressed warmer than usual. It was his casual outfit which consisted of brown boots, navy blue jeans that had dark spots of dirt all over them, a grey shirt and his father’s iconic Sheriff hat. This time, however the boy borrowed Rick’s brown suede jacket that turned out to be smaller than expected and fitted Carl almost perfectly.

Alexandria looked just as always. There were many similar-looking houses that were mainly painted grey; well-known faces of the residents that appeared friendly, yet somehow still unreadable; a few visibly bored lookouts at the gates. In between the whooshing gusts of wind Carl was able to hear distant rumbling sounds that may or may not have been the walkers.

The boy found his father rather quickly. Rick was preparing a metallic gray 1984 Toyota Cressida for a supply run. Carl instantly recognized the car as it was one of the few his father told him about in great detail two days ago. The boy wanted to grow up as fast as possible which is why he asked Rick to teach him a thing or two about cars. “No more kid stuff.” That’s what his father told him back at the farm. It was time to take those words more seriously than ever.

“I’m coming with you.” Carl uttered as indifferently as he possibly could and opened the car’s gas cap to help his father fill up the tank.

“Of course, you do. We gotta talk about that reoccurring dream of yours, right?” Rick teased his son. He appeared playful yet sober.

Upon finishing the preparations and joking about how Rick would never allow Carl to drive a car both of them hopped in and took off.

It was one of those rare instances where father and son had time to talk to each other without being interrupted. Fortunately, the sky was clear, and the road was empty. They would have plenty of time to get into conversation with each other.

 


End file.
